


can't be alone tonight

by cori_the_bloody



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Porn, F/F, Friends With Benefits, also, and there's some pining, angsty cuddles, lexa is the gayest of the gay, though admittedly the porn is very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: Clarke and Lexa meet up after a long day to help each other unwind. Modern friends with benefits AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Word Count:** 4,426  
>  **Author's Note:** this was written for a touch-based [prompt meme](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/post/150138227159/touch-my-muse-touching-is-a-quiet-way-of); cheek: i want to tell you i love you. i don't know why my mind went immediately to angsty smut, but it did. so...you're welcome.  
>  special thanks to my lovely beta, [ravenrxyes](http://ravenrxyes.tumblr.com/), who keeps me writing in active voice and is generally a doll of a human.

Lexa’s sneaking in a quick lunch between her meetings with the head of the Green Party senate candidate and one of the Virginian House members when her phone vibrates.

Taking a too-big bite of her sandwich, she slides her phone out of her pocket and checks the text.

Clarke G: _got official business tonight?_

Lexa can’t fight the way the corners of her lips tug upward. She takes another bite of food and then wipes her fingers on a napkin.

_Nothing official, but I’ll probably work on some proposals, try to get the wording just right. Anyway, I thought you had the night shift for the rest of the week._

She reads the text over and cringes. She’s always saying too much—giving away more than she needs to—when it comes to Clarke.

With a sigh, she sends it off anyway.

“Woods, is that you?”

Lexa’s head whips up from her phone in time to see Ontari Pelletier—her career-long nemesis and annoyingly successful lobbyist for the Azgeda Industries oil company—settling across from her. She plasters a big, disingenuous smile on her face.

“Pelletier,” she greets tightly.

“Please, don’t strain yourself trying to look happy to see me.” Ontari bares her teeth in what she probably thinks passes for a grin and drums her blood-red nails against the picnic table.

Lexa ignores the comment. “I was under the impression you’d be out of town for another week. What was it this time, by the way? Covering up another oil spill for your company?”

“Azgeda Industries cares deeply about the environment and practices sustainability. We’ve never been responsible for environmental harm,” Ontari recites, cocking her head innocently. 

It’s such a controlled response, Lexa’s not sure how she can manage delivering it without screaming.

“It’s almost as if you have no idea how oil extraction works,” Lexa says.

“Down girl.” Ontari matches her condescending tone. “I’m not here to talk shop.”

Lexa’s phone vibrates on the table and she resists both the urge to look at the screen and to cover it up with her arm so Ontari can’t read the incoming text.

With a steadying breath, she asks, “Then why are you here?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you on _finally_ getting an audience with Mayor Sessoms about your org’s beach cleaning initiative.”

Ontari shouldn’t know that she’d been trying to contact the mayor, let alone why. The corners of Lexa’s mouth twist down in a confused, infinitesimal frown, but she otherwise tries not to rise to the bait.

“Oh, wait, that’s right,” Ontari says, a sickeningly smug smile on her face. “You haven’t been able to get in touch with the honorable mayor’s office. That was me. Looks like he’s much more interested in what Azgeda has to offer than Ecotrust.”

Lexa feels her nostrils flare and she racks her brain for a comeback. But before anything intelligible strikes her, Ontari’s pushing up off the bench and waggling her fingers.

“Toodles,” she says as she prances away, clearly pleased to have won this round of verbal sparring.

As Lexa stews in impotent rage, clenching and unclenching her jaw, her phone vibrates against her arm—another incoming text.

Clarke G: _they over scheduled for tonight and i was more than willing to let Jackson take the shift._

Clarke G: _so what would you say to sharing a bottle of wine? 8ish??_

Eagerness floods through Lexa’s body, pushing out some of the anger. 

_That sounds like exactly what I need right now._

###

Lexa’s last meeting of the day runs long, so she’s just setting her briefcase down on the dining room table and hanging her keys on the hook by the door when Clarke arrives at her apartment.

“Long day?” Clarke guesses when Lexa pauses just long enough to let her in and then goes back to her after-work ritual.

“You have no idea,” Lexa says, heaving a weary sigh as she shrugs out of her blazer, steps out of her heels, and unbuttons a couple buttons on her forest green Oxford. 

Clarke takes off her leather jacket and drapes it over a chair as Lexa moves about the living room, lighting candles.

“Sounds like you need a glass of this, STAT.” Clarke holds up a bottle of red wine.

Lexa lights the last candle and shakes out the match, finally slowing down long enough to appreciate the fact that Clarke’s there.

She’s wearing snug-yet-worn jeans and a thin, v-neck t-shirt that really complements her skin tone. Her hair is twisted up into a sloppy bun, but long strands still fall down to her shoulders. She’s radiant, and Lexa finds herself staring a bit too long.

She shakes her head slowly, trying to banish the haze from her brain, and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Is that, uh, is that your professional opinion?”

Clarke snorts at Lexa’s feeble banter and pushes the bottle into her hands. “It is.”

She nods, accepting the gift, and moves toward the kitchen.

“Hey.” Clarke catches her by the arm.

Lexa raises an eyebrow in question.

“You never said hello,” she says, her voice low and husky.

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat, her lips parting. She doesn’t manage to form words before Clarke’s wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck and pulling her in for a hug.

She squeezes Clarke back around the waist, tucking her face into Clarke’s shoulder and sucking in a deep breath.

Clarke lets go too soon, a smirk on her face, and moves for the couch. 

“Hi,” Lexa breathes, several moments too late. Blood pools in her cheeks and she curses herself under her breath as she walks into the kitchen, wine bottle clutched tightly to her chest.

After stacking some dirty plates to clear space on the counter, she retrieves two wine glasses from the cupboard and pours them both a generous amount. Before joining Clarke in the living room, though, Lexa takes a moment to compose herself. The smell of Clarke’s lotion lingers in her lungs, the warmth of her hug still very much present in the pit of her stomach.

Lexa’s pulse pounds under her skin in a distinctly un-platonic way.

Clarke’s already made herself at home by the time Lexa recovers enough to show her face, looking totally at ease sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Ignoring the wistful tug in her heart, Lexa settles on the armchair. She sets both the wine glasses on the coffee table.

Clarke reaches for hers and takes a sip before smiling brightly right at her. “So,” she says. “What’s got that crinkle between your eyebrows all worked up?”

“Huh?”

“You get all squinty and pensive when you’re upset,” Clarke says, pointing at Lexa’s face. “So spill.”

“Oh, um, work’s just been rough lately.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the face-off with Ontari isn’t what’s got her brooding and thoughtful in this particular moment.

“You wanna talk about it?” Clarke asks.

“No.” Lexa pauses and takes a gulp of wine. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get a hold of someone in the mayor’s office for months.”

“To talk about your clean city initiative,” Clarke says, nodding.

Lexa feels a wide smile overtake her. “Yeah.”

“Still no luck?”

“Not anything even remotely resembling luck. Still, I wouldn’t be too upset if it weren’t for the fact that Ontari—” Clarke makes a disgusted face in solidarity. “— _did_ get in touch with Mayor Sessoms.”

“That bitch,” Clarke says, shaking her head.

Lexa frowns into her glass. “She’s merely doing her job.”

“And being a total bitch about it.”

With a short laugh, Lexa knocks back some more wine. “I suppose. Though all’s fair in love and war, as they say. Politics is pretty much synonymous with the latter.”

“You’ll bounce back from this,” Clarke says confidently. “You’re good at what you do and dogged as hell.”

Lexa raises her eyebrows. “Is that just your roundabout way of calling me stubborn?”

Clarke ignores her and takes a sip of wine before hitting Lexa with a bright, disarming smile. “Besides, who could say no to that pretty face?”

Heat rises in her cheeks, and Lexa ducks her head. After gulping down more of her drink just for something to do, Lexa checks to see if Clarke noticed her reaction.

She’s watching Lexa closely and smirking, clearly pleased with herself.

“H-how’s work been for you?” Lexa asks, trying to divert Clarke’s attention.

She rolls her eyes and flops sideways onto the couch. “The usual. It’s all tiring, long shifts that make me smell funny.”

Lexa stamps down the impulse to tell Clarke she always smells amazing.

“Still,” Clarke continues, swirling her wine around in her glass before taking a drink. “It’s fulfilling. Usually.”

An admiring smile tugs at the corners of Lexa’s lips. “I can imagine. Being a nurse, you’re pretty much on par with superheros in my book.”

“Stop it,” Clarke says, shaking her head dismissively. “I’m not doing anything heroic.”

Feeling giddier and lighter by the second, Lexa sticks her tongue out. “Believe what you want to believe.”

Clarke quirks an eyebrow. Feeling her timidity over doing or saying the wrong thing retreat to the back of her mind, Lexa stares steadily back, tilting her chin up and swallowing hard.

Her eyes darkening, Clarke sets her glass on the coffee table. “C’mere.”

Lexa’s mouth goes dry, but she manages to sound flirty when she asks, “What for?”

“I thought we could help each other unwind,” Clarke says, licking her lower lip and making Lexa’s heart jump in her chest.

After a second of hesitation, she stands from the armchair and then slides down the length of the coffee table, stopping to move Clarke’s wine glass out of the way so she can sit right in front of her. “Are you particularly stressed?”

With a soft laugh, Clarke starts tracing tiny circles along Lexa’s knee.

Lexa’s pulse spikes.

“Not _particularly_ ,” she says. “I didn’t come here to talk about work, is all.”

Lexa presses her lips together and nods once before letting her chin fall into her chest. Despite the fact that she knows exactly why Clarke had wanted to come over, a moment of stomach-clenching disappointment washes over her. She hates that her heart keeps trying to blur the lines Clarke’s carefully set for them.

“We can watch TV or something if you're not up for sex,” Clarke says, though her near-pouting tone makes it clear which direction she’d prefer to take the evening.

Lexa bites down on the inside of her cheek, hard, and then relaxes, letting the wine do its job of soothing her overeager heart. When she lifts her head to meet Clarke’s gaze, she’s smiling.

“I didn’t say that,” she reassures.

With a coy smirk, Clarke gives Lexa’s knee a squeeze and sits up. “Okay then. Get over here.”

With the feeling of her heart thudding under every inch of her skin, Lexa tips off the coffee table and straddles Clarke’s lap. As soon as her knees sink into the couch on either side of Clarke’s hips, Clarke’s hands find her back, palms splayed wide and urging Lexa closer. Sharp warmth seeps into the crisp cotton of her shirt.

Lexa shivers and lets out a low, rumbling hum of approval.

“You know, I’ve always been kind of jealous of your job,” Clarke says, her breath fanning over Lexa’s nose and cheeks as their foreheads fall together.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s very hard to make scrubs look sexy,” Clarke says, and Lexa can hear the smile in her voice. “But you always look so hot in your work clothes.”

As she talks, her left hand slides down into Lexa’s slacks, her fingertips dancing up under the hem of Lexa’s shirt.

Lexa squirms, licking her lips before saying, “You don’t have to work to seduce me, you know. We have an arrangement.”

Clarke laughs and Lexa cups her neck with both her hands. “Where’s the fun in seductionless sex?”

Lexa’s shirt slowly comes untucked as Clarke’s palm inches up the skin of her back. Her breath catches in her throat and she nudges Clarke’s nose with her own.

Clarke continues her musing, a single fingernail dragging lightly along Lexa’s spine. “Where’s the fun if I can’t tease you?”

“Clarke,” Lexa whines softly, her fingers flexing around Clarke’s neck.

“If I can’t get you shaking and begging.”

Clarke’s lips feel too far away—miles away—and Lexa’s anxious to bridge the distance. She tilts her chin forward ever so slightly, her lips parting…

At the feeling of something vibrating against her right thigh, Lexa jerks her head back.

“Damn it,” Clarke groans. “I thought I’d turned that off.” She pulls her cell out of her pocket, glances at it, and then tosses it onto the coffee table, where it lands with a clatter.

“Anything important,” Lexa checks.

“Nothing important enough to delay this,” Clarke says, waggling her eyebrows.

Lexa can’t help it: she laughs.

“So long as we’ve been interrupted, though, we should take this opportunity to move to your bed,” Clarke suggests.

With a nod, Lexa slides off her legs and steps aside. While Clarke’s stretching, she tugs the tails of her shirt out of her pants and then quickly swallows down the rest of her wine.

Clarke pauses to do the same before clasping onto Lexa’s hand and leading her toward the short hall.

Once they reach the bedroom, Clarke spins around so she’s facing Lexa, her hands landing on her hips.

“What are you doing?” Lexa asks, breathless—Clarke’s thumbs are rubbing wide arcs along her pelvis, distracting and sexy and leaving Lexa wanting more.

Clarke’s cheeks are rosy and she gives Lexa a toothy grin before dragging them closer together so their bodies are flush.

Lexa gasps, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Making you shake and beg,” Clarke answers in a husky whisper. Before Lexa has the time to react, Clarke’s backing her toward her unmade bed.

When she falls down onto the edge, Clarke steps between her knees. Moonlight curls into the room through the gaps between Lexa’s curtains, making her hair glow white and her eyes shine gray-blue.

She’s so beautiful, it makes Lexa’s heart ache.

“Clarke,” Lexa mouths, voice caught fluttering in her throat.

Moving with deliberate slowness, Clarke nods in acknowledgement and then leans forward. Lexa’s nerves are left thrumming with anticipation, and when their lips finally lock together, she feels a blaze of heat unfurl low in her stomach.

Clarke presses into her, unyielding, and Lexa has to grip onto her thighs to anchor herself upright. As their noses bump and their teeth catch skin, Clarke’s fingers make deft work of the buttons on Lexa’s top. Soon enough, she’s pushing the thin fabric down the slope of Lexa’s shoulders. 

When Lexa breaks their kiss to shrug the shirt completely off, Clarke takes the opportunity to tip her back, the overheated skin of Lexa’s back meeting the coolness of the bedspread. She arches away from the shock of it as Clarke drapes herself over Lexa, her lips locking onto Lexa’s neck.

In a mess of limbs and frenzied sucking, they shift a little closer to the center of the bed. Clarke marks up the column of Lexa’s throat, palms firmly planted on the mattress to keep herself hovering so that Lexa can only feel the tantalizing brush of Clarke’s t-shirt against the bare skin of her stomach.

After letting herself get lost in the teasing of Clarke’s rough tongue for a moment, Lexa dances her fingers along the sweep of Clarke’s sides till her shirt’s bunched up around her shoulder blades. She follows the lacy curve of Clarke’s bra from her spine to her chest, knuckles sliding over the soft expanse of Clarke’s tummy.

When she finds the clasp, she unhooks it.

Taking the hint, Clarke sits up and pulls her shirt over her head before tossing the bra onto the floor. Lexa drinks in the sight greedily, smoothing her palms up Clarke’s abs and letting her nails graze the undersides of Clarke’s breasts.

When she’s rewarded with a breathy moan of approval, Lexa cups Clarke more fully, thumbs brushing over stiffening nipples.

“No need to be gentle,” Clarke urges, pushing herself into Lexa’s grip.

“Where’s the fun if I can’t tease you?” Lexa says, smirking.

“No fair,” Clarke says, pouting when Lexa scrapes a fingernail lightly against the dusky skin surrounding her nipple.

“Suddenly I’m the only one who gets reduced to shaking and begging?” Lexa asks and trails her hands back down Clarke’s stomach until she reaches the waistline of her jeans. She pops open the button but then stops to toy with the zipper.

“Please,” Clarke whimpers.

“Please what?” Lexa asks, reveling in her power over Clarke. After all, keeping ever-stronger feelings for her locked in the depths of her heart often makes Lexa feel like the power _less_ in their relationship.

“Touch me,” Clarke says, her voice wobbling. She thrusts her hips forward, telling Lexa where.

Raising a pointed brow, Lexa drags the zipper down and then pushes the jeans off Clarke’s hips. When she then skims her pointer finger across the elastic of Clarke’s panties, Clarke let’s out an impatient whine. 

“ _Lexa_.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you waiting for?”

Lexa chuckles and she sees Clarke’s brow furrow.

“For the shaking, of course.”

Clarke draws in a shuddering breath.

“You evil orgasm withholder,” she says, but the insult lacks bite thanks to the quaver in her voice.

Lexa continues to drag her finger back and forth, dipping just far enough under the fabric to make goosebumps pimple Clarke’s skin.

“There’s a very simple way to get what you want,” Lexa points out.

A growl rumbles in the depths of Clarke’s chest. “You’re right. There is.”

The shift in her tone is striking, and before Lexa can ask Clarke what she means, Clarke’s hand is covering her own and guiding it further into Clarke’s panties.

Lexa readily gives into this new game, gasping when her fingers slide over the slick heat of Clarke. As she guides the pace of Lexa’s stroking, Clarke’s lips part and she starts to pant softly.

Lexa is mesmerized. Gazing, heavy-lidded, up at a heaving-chested Clarke whose skin looks like glistening pearl in the moonlight makes the blaze in the pit of her stomach flare.

Once Clarke is satisfied Lexa won’t go back to teasing, she releases her hand in favor of palming at her own breasts. At the sight, a heady moan rushes out of Lexa and she rewards Clarke by flicking her clit, quick and forceful just the way she likes.

Clarke’s thighs quiver and her eyes find Lexa’s.

“Come down here,” Lexa whispers.

With a grin, Clarke drops forward, catching herself just in time to leave a few inches of space between her and Lexa’s lips.

Tired of drawing things out, Lexa tilts her chin up, searching, and pushes two fingers inside Clarke. Her pleasured gasp fills Lexa’s mouth.

As they kiss, sloppy and erratic, Clarke slides herself along Lexa’s body in time with her pumping. “More,” Clarke pants after a moment. “Please, Lexa. I need more.”

Lexa tries to murmur some kind of affirmation, but she’s only able to grunt with effort—trying to keep up with Clarke once she’s on her way to orgasm is like trying to catch a derailed train simply by running after it—and adds a third finger to her ministrations.

Clarke’s moans get louder and more consistent as Lexa thrusts deeper, and soon kissing is no longer a viable option. After sucking on Clarke’s lip for a moment longer, Lexa moves her mouth elsewhere. She takes a second to nip at the dimple in Clarke’s chin and then cups Clarke’s breast in her free hand, cranes her neck, and guides one hardened nipple into her mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clarke says, jolting when Lexa sucks hard, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

A warm rush of wetness coats her fingers and then Clarke’s arms go slack. The full weight of her body settles pleasantly over Lexa, and she hums as she releases Clarke’s nipple with a pop.

“I jus’ need one second,” Clarke says, her voice dripping slow and sweet as honey into Lexa’s ear, “and then it’s your turn.”

“Take all the time you need,” Lexa says as calmly as she can manage while blazing with want. She eases her fingers out of Clarke, who whimpers at the loss, and then shifts so she can rub at herself over her slacks.

“Hey,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “No fair starting without me.” She rolls off Lexa and catches her by the wrist.

“Clarke, I’m-” Lexa starts to protest, but Clarke silences her with a kiss before sliding off the bed.

“Take off your pants and lay back on the pillows,” she demands, stepping out of her jeans.

Lexa does as she’s told and kicks off her pants. Then she slides up toward the head of the bed and looks expectantly to Clarke, who’s already crawling back over to her. She wastes no time straddling Lexa’s hips and leaning in for another kiss. Lexa loses herself in the sensation of Clarke’s lips commanding her own, and a disappointed whine escapes when she moves her mouth away to kiss down Lexa’s body. Her disappointment quickly turns to a thrill of excitement, though, because Clarke settles between her parted thighs.

“I would tease you like you teased me,” Clarke says, her husky voice coaxing a flood of arousal out of Lexa, “but you’re already shaking.”

“ _Clarke_.”

“So eager,” Clarke purrs, ghosting her fingers over the damp fabric of Lexa’s thong.

Lexa cants into her hand. “Please don’t keep me waiting.”

Grinning, Clarke hooks her fingers under the waistband of Lexa’s panties and tugs them down her legs. Once they’re out of her way, she drags her tongue over Lexa’s folds, which makes both of them moan.

Hooking her arms under Lexa’s thighs and holding her hips in place, Clarke inches closer so she can work her tongue more firmly against Lexa.

The fire inside her burns brighter than ever and consumes all coherent thought as Clarke licks deeper and deeper. Lexa’s first orgasm builds quickly and her entire body shudders as she clenches around Clarke’s tongue.

Clarke doesn’t stop, though. She continues sucking and lapping and nudging Lexa’s sensitive clit with her nose until a second orgasm makes Lexa arch off the bed with a delighted yelp.

“Slow down, slow down,” Lexa says, shaking her head as Clarke continues to eat her out with exuberance. “Too sensitive.”

“Spoilsport.” Clarke’s voice is muffled, but Lexa can still hear. “Taking advantage of you in your sensitive state is the best part.”

Lexa laughs and her hips jerk up involuntarily at the potential for more pleasure. She’s firm, though, when she says, “Not tonight.”

Clarke nods, and the loose strands of her hair tickle Lexa’s inner thigh. The she gives Lexa one last, lingering lick before releasing her.

It takes a second for the endorphin fog to dissipate even a little, but once Lexa can form full sentences in her head again, she notices that Clarke’s scrambling to collect her clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Lexa asks. She sits up and draws her legs in close to her chest, hating everything about how she sounds small and pitiful.

“I probably should,” Clarke says, wrestling with her bra. “I promised my mom I’d meet her early for breakfast and errands, and after a week of working nights, I’m seriously exhausted.”

“You’re sure you’re good to drive?”

Clarke cocks her head at Lexa, her eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline. “You and I both know it takes more than a single glass of wine to fuck me up.”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, nodding once.

“Are you okay?” Clarke squints down at her. “You seem kinda down.”

Lexa sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and turns away, not wanting Clarke to be able to see her face when she asks, “Could you stay?”

Silence hangs heavy in the room for just a second too long.

“Lexa,” Clarke starts.

“I know,” she says, jumping in quickly. “We have a rule.”

“Cuddling after sex is too-”

“Couple-y.” Lexa finishes.

“Yeah.” Clarke shifts her weight and fiddles with her bra.

Lexa swallows hard and fixes a smile to her face. “No, you’re right. This is better.”

“Less complicated,” Clarke agrees.

“Of course.”

That should conclude all discussion on the matter, but Clarke remains frozen in place, watching Lexa with a pensive frown.

“Well…what’s one exception, honestly?”

Lexa tries to keep hope from flaring bright in her chest, but fighting it is fruitless. “A-are you sure?” she checks.

“Yeah!” Clarke says, tossing her bra back on the ground. “I’m a total rebel. Rule breaking is in my nature.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at that, but her strained smile grows fond and relaxed. “Let’s not get carried away now.”

“Who? Me?” Clarke asks as she slips under the covers.

Lexa scoots over to give her more room, then sinks down next to Clarke. She hesitates to be the first one to bridge the distance between them, though.

Sensing this, Clarke reaches out and drapes her arm over Lexa’s hip, fingertips grazing her lower back. Lexa snuggles in closer, wrapping her arm around Clarke’s waist.

Clarke hums. “You’re warm.”

Lexa’s eyes drift closed and she tips forward till her forehead rests against Clarke’s. “You’re soft.”

Clarke doesn’t answer, and, after a while, Lexa hears her breathing become deep and even. She pulls back and opens her eyes—yup, Clarke’s definitely asleep.

For what feels like the hundredth time that night, Lexa drinks in Clarke’s beauty, her heart working desperately to memorize every feature. The wispy, baby-soft hair that crowns her forehead. The freckle above her eyebrow and the one near her lips. The delicate curve of her cheeks.

All of a sudden, Clarke heaves out a contented sigh and unconsciously tightens her grip on Lexa’s hip. The resulting tug of her heart is so forceful, Lexa’s left breathless.

Slowly, cautiously she moves her hand from Clarke’s waist and skims the pads of her fingers back and forth along Clarke’s cheekbone. When she doesn’t wake up, Lexa cups her cheek fully in her palm.

Maybe one day she’ll succumb completely to her weakness and tell Clarke how she really feels. Until then, Lexa’s more than happy to hide behind silent _I love you_ ’s, easily ignored or misinterpreted.

With an anguished sigh, she squeezes her eyes shut.

She can still see Clarke’s face perfectly.


End file.
